


Everything is Wrong (Everything is Right)

by HawthorneWhisperer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pregnant Clarke, hints of Finn x Clarke, hints of clexa, mentions of unplanned pregnancy and abortion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 08:31:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4094119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthorneWhisperer/pseuds/HawthorneWhisperer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke walks away from Camp Jaha after Mount Weather, determined not to turn back.  But the possibility of a life inside of her changes her mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything is Wrong (Everything is Right)

At first, she denied it.

It wasn’t possible.  It just wasn’t.

It was so impossible it never even crossed her mind.

She’d been on her own for a few weeks, sleeping in caves and trees, eating whatever nuts and roots she managed to dig up, when she had a strange thought.  Back at the dropship, around when Murphy came back, a few girls had come to her complaining that they’d gotten their periods.  _Aren’t the implants supposed to stop that?_  one had whined, but Clarke could barely spare it a second thought, not with the fever and then the Grounders.  She’d meant to tell her mother–if the implants failed on earth, she would need to know–but then Finn happened, and then the missile, and before she knew it she was turning into a monster and running.  Getting her period never even occurred to her until that moment, crouched over a stream with water cupped in her hands.  She stared at her wavering reflection and tried to talk herself out of worrying.

_Maybe mine still works.  Who knows how this radiation affects us–it must be different from solar anyway.  Some might fail, but not all._

Then she started vomiting.  Not a lot–mostly she felt nauseous–but she figured she must have eaten something wrong.   _Probably those berries_ , she thought, and resolved never to eat them again.

But the nausea never went away, even after a week of avoiding the berries.

That was when the thought first crossed her mind, but she immediately dismissed it.  The timing would be borderline impossible–ten days for the implant to fail completely and trigger ovulation, one night of sex for insemination and implantation.

Impossible.

But the nausea lingered and her breasts became unmistakably tender and the nagging possibility started flickering insistently in the back of her mind.

Impossible became unlikely.

Unlikely became possible.

 

 

She’d been gone for just over a month when she couldn’t ignore it any longer and turned back, her heart growing heavier with every step.  Her stomach swelled almost overnight and she had to pop the button on her pants to walk without discomfort, the cloak she’d scavenged from an abandoned grounder village drawn tight against her.  It was getting colder by the day as winter set in and her toes had started to tingle uncomfortably when she stopped to make camp.  Most nights she cried herself to sleep, curled around the tiny life growing inside of her.  It took two weeks before she started recognizing the terrain and another week until she saw the wan winter sun glinting off the metal of the Ark.

The gates of Camp Jaha sent a bolt of panic through her, so fast and sharp she almost ran again, but instead she dug her nails into her palm and forced one foot in front of the other.  Monroe spotted her first and sprinted out into the clearing, her braid thumping against her back.  “You’re home!” she shouted and wrapped her arms around Clarke’s neck in an uncharacteristic display of affection.  Clarke stiffened at the contact and patted Monroe’s back awkwardly.

“I need to see my mom.”

Monroe’s eyes got big.  “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Clarke lied, because while no one was in danger, nothing was fine.

Everything was wrong.

“Your mom is probably in the med bay–do you need me to walk you there?”

Clarke nodded.  “I need to see her first.  I can’t talk to anyone else, not yet.  Okay?”

“This way, then,” Monroe directed and led Clarke around to a small gate in the back of the fence.  “This is our emergency exit, mostly.  We’re not supposed to use it, but–” she broke off and nodded to the guard standing near the gate, who let them in.  “Back door to the med bay is over there.  And Clarke?”  Clarke stopped and turned back to Monroe.  “I can buy you some time, but other people saw you walking up.  Everyone will know you’re here sooner or later.”

Clarke closed her eyes, knowing Monroe was right.  Camp Jaha was even smaller than the Ark–news would travel fast.  She pushed aside the curtains that served as a door and stepped into what had become her mother’s office.  Abby sat off to her left, frowning at her tablet.  She glanced up at Clarke and then down to her tablet again before freezing and jolting out of her seat.  “Clarke?” she said, and the disbelief in her voice sent another spear of guilt into Clarke’s heart.

“Mom?  I need you,” she pleaded, her chin wobbling dangerously.  Clarke wondered if she would ever reunite be able with her mother without tears and guilt and blame as Abby enfolded her in her arms, their cheeks wet with tears.

“What’s wrong?” Abby asked, using her thumbs to wipe away some of Clarke’s tears. Clarke looked down and placed a trembling hand on her stomach.  “Oh honey,” Abby breathed.  “Who?”

“Finn,” Clarke replied as she blinked back tears.  A tiny voice in her brain objected to her mother’s implied question, the hint that there could have been someone else.  There wasn’t anyone else, and now Clarke wondered if there ever could be.

Abby slid into doctor-mode.  “Lie down and I’ll check you out.  How far along are you?”

“How long have we been down here?” Clarke asked, because she’d done her best to keep track of the days while she was gone, but she knew her count was slightly off.  There had been too many days where she was operating in a fog of guilt, where making it a couple of miles and forcing down some nuts was the best she could do.

Abby stuck her head out into the main med bay.  “Jackson, can you go find Nyko?  I need him back here.”  She turned back to Clarke.  “Seventeen weeks.  You came down seventeen weeks ago.”

“I’m about fifteen weeks, then.”

“That will complicate things, but I’ll wait for Nyko to get here.  We can count on his discretion, and he has more experience with Earth pregnancies than I do.  You aren’t the first to have her implant fail down here.”

Clarke furrowed her brow.  “Nyko is here?”

Abby busied herself with a few instruments on her desk.  “We have a truce of sorts–we exchange information and some supplies, but we can’t leave the area around camp.  Nyko came about a month ago to help us.”

Just then Nyko’s large, bearded frame filled the doorway.  “You wanted–Clarke,” he said, abandoning his original thought.  “You’ve returned.”

Abby shut the door behind him and tipped her head to where Clarke laid on her back.  “She’s fifteen weeks along.”

Nyko nodded, almost to himself, and picked up a trumpet-shaped instrument.  “Can I?” he asked and motioned to her stomach.

Clarke tugged her shirt up and let Nyko place the instrument against her belly.  He put his ear against the other end and listened intently before sitting down on a stool.

“The heartbeat is strong.  Fifteen weeks, you said?” He looked Clarke straight in the eye as Abby took her hand.  “If you do not wish to have this baby, we have a tea that will induce contractions.  But I must warn you–this far along, it may not work.  And if it does, the bleeding will be severe.  Some women who put it off until this point lose too much blood and do not survive.  You are young and strong, but it will still be a risk.”

Clarke shook her head frantically.  She’d had enough of blood to last a lifetime, and she wasn’t sure she could bear watching even more of Finn’s blood be spilled at her hands.  “Mom,” she whispered brokenly again, and Abby pressed her lips to Clarke’s temple.

“We’ll figure it out, honey,” she promised, just as there was an explosion of noise from the main med bay.

“She’s my goddamn friend and I’ll see her if I want to,” a woman yelled and threw the door open.

Raven hovered at the door, her dark eyes darting from Clarke’s face to her exposed and swelling stomach, to Nyko sitting at her side and Abby leaning over her.  “No.  No.  You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said fiercely.  In an instant, her face changed from excited to furious.  “It’s his,” she sneered, a declaration and not a question, and then she was gone, slamming the door behind her.

Clarke sat up but Abby stopped her.  “Raven will need time–let her work this out on her own.  Nyko, thank you.”

Nyko left and Abby tipped her head toward the curtained back door to her office.  “I can take you to my tent,” she offered, but once they were outside Clarke paused, her eyes flitting around camp.  “He’s out on patrol.  Should be back before they shut the power down for the night,” Abby said quietly.  Clarke looked at her mother questioningly and Abby gave her a sad smile.  “You told him you were leaving.  You told him and no one else.”   _Not even me,_  hung in the air, unspoken but no less accusatory.  “There must have been a reason.  Come on–tent’s this way.”

Clarke was laying on the cot with her head in Abby’s lap when a shadow crossed the threshold.  Abby’s hand stilled where it was smoothing Clarke’s hair and Clarke knew, without opening her eyes, that it was him.  “I’ll leave you two alone,” Abby murmured and helped Clarke sit up.  She ducked out of the tent but Bellamy stayed where he was, his arms crossed and his face serious.

“So you’re back.”

“I am,” Clarke said and clasped her hands in her lap.

“Reyes says you’re pregnant.”

“I am,” she echoed, her eyes trained on her hands.

“Finn’s?”

“Who else?” Clarke snapped, because first her mother, now him.  This was hard enough without people thinking she hadn’t even cared about Finn.

“I don’t know.  I thought I knew you, but the Clarke I knew wouldn’t have  _left_.”  His words rang through the tent and Clarke crumpled.

Tears poured down her face and she buried her face in her hands.  When she left Camp Jaha, she was so numb she didn’t think she would ever cry again.  But since she turned back, since she faced that there was a life inside her, she couldn’t stop.  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed.  “I’m so sorry.  I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–”

Bellamy sighed heavily and sat down next to her.  “I know,” he rasped.  “I know.”  He placed his hands between her shoulderblades and started drawing circles across her back.  Clarke sobbed harder and eventually, he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him.

“I’m sorry I left,” she managed.  “I had to.”

“I know.”  He had his lips pressed to the crown of her head.  “I know you are.”

Clarke struggled to slow her sobs.  “I can’t stop crying.  Ever since–ever since I realized.”

“It’s the hormones.  With O, my mom cried all the time.  It’ll pass,” he offered, even though they both knew the reason for her tears went far deeper than simple biology.  It went down to her bones, this guilt that was woven through her like a spiderweb.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke repeated.  “Please don’t go yet,” she begged, even though she knew she, of all people, had lost the right to ask that of him the day she left.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice thick and sad.

**

Slowly, Clarke integrated herself back into Camp Jaha.  She avoided the Council and worked her shifts in the med bay, ignoring the whispers.  Monty and Monroe were the only ones who seemed unreservedly happy to have her back–Jasper sent dark looks her way, and Raven outright refused to be in the same room as her.  She would stalk away whenever Clarke dared to cross her path and pretty soon, Clarke learned Raven’s schedule and habits to give her space.  Octavia would acknowledge her with a sharp nod and then find something else she needed to be doing whenever Clarke approached her, although the venom in her eyes seemed more muted than before the Mountain.  She saw Bellamy every day and something of their earlier rapport returned, even though she could feel him holding back.  A thin veil hung between them during their every interaction that they both refused to acknowledge.  Clarke worried that she knew the cause, but she couldn’t bring herself to destroy her last remaining friendship.

Lincoln came by her tent the first week she was back with a bowl of porridge from the mess hall.  “I’m here as a peace offering,” he said with a gentle smile.

Clarke accepted the bowl.  “How upset is she?”

“She’s cooled down a bit,” Lincoln said and sat cross-legged on the floor.

“So still pretty mad.  I–I can explain about Tondc.  I’ll go find her later.”

Lincoln shook his head.  “It’s not really that.  It is, but it’s more about her brother.”

“I let that missile fall to  _save_  Bellamy,” she protested half-heartedly.

“I know that, and she knows that.  But he’s been struggling since you left and it’s easier to forgive someone for hurting you than to forgive someone for hurting a person you love.  They put him on the Council, but he’s not a diplomat.  His instinct is for war, not peace.”

“Bellamy is who the kids follow,” Clarke pointed out.

“He is.  But you’re the one  _he_  followed, and you were gone.  He’s tried very hard to be you.  It’s a difficult burden for one person to bear.”

Clarke poked glumly at her porridge.  “I had to go,” she said.

“I don’t doubt that you did.  But you left behind people who needed you.”

“I’m sorry.”  Clarke wondered if she would ever stop apologizing.

“It’s alright.”  Lincoln smiled softly at her again and she felt the knot in her chest start to loosen.  “Most have already forgiven you, even if they haven’t realized it yet.”

**

“It’s moving day,” Bellamy announced one morning as he ducked into Abby’s tent.  

Clarke looked up from lacing her boots and furrowed her brow in confusion.  “There aren’t any free tents,” she pointed out.  “We’re fine sharing.”

“You can keep sharing if you want, but you’ve been assigned a space on the Ark. Kane’s orders.”

“We’re fine–” she protested but Bellamy shook his head.

“Quarters on the Ark are assigned to the ones that need them the most–families with children, the sick, and now pregnant women.  That last one’s you, if you hadn’t noticed,” he teased gently.

Clarke smiled a little, because this was the first time anything easy had passed between them in weeks.  “Good thing I travel light, then.”  She grabbed the medical book Abby had loaned her and stood.  “Lead the way.”

Bellamy guided her to a small compartment on the eastern side of the Ark.  It was dull grey metal with no windows, but a real door and a small contraption tucked in the corner next to a solitary cot.  “Reyes and Wick made those,” Bellamy said, indicating the small metal square.  “Solar heater.  They’re not much use in a tent, but they work pretty well indoors and they don’t draw from the main power supply so they work even after the power goes off at night.”

“Smart,” Clarke said, because she never knew what to say where Raven was concerned.  She understood her rage but missed her friend all the same.

“She’ll come around, you know,” Bellamy said, reading her mind like always.  “She just needs time.”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying, but I’m not sure what I should do while I wait for her to forgive me,” Clarke grumbled.

Bellamy looked like he was about to say something but then shook his head.  “Reyes will come around,” he repeated.  “Go talk to your mom–if you want her to live with you, let me know and I’ll get Miller to move her stuff here for you.”

“Thanks.  I will.”

Bellamy looked at her again and turned to leave.  “Anytime,” he said, and the resignation in his voice cut her to the quick.

**

By her sixth month her belly was swelling rapidly and Abby arranged a clothing swap to find things to accommodate her growing figure.  Clarke ended up in a dress that hung lopsided on her with a thick pair leggings and she hauled herself around the camp and tried not to flinch when the baby started to kick.  Aside from Raven and Jasper, most people had adjusted to having Clarke back.  She didn’t even realize Octavia had forgiven her until Bellamy pointed it out.

_“She’s stopped storming out of whatever room you’re in.  And she didn’t argue when you took out her stitches.”_

_“That’s how you know?  It doesn’t seem like much,” Clarke had asked._

_“That’s forgiveness in the Blake family.  I promise.”_

And sure enough, a few weeks after Octavia had stopped giving her the silent treatment, things snapped back to normal between them.  She was full of ideas for possible names (mostly Octavia or Octavian, with Lincoln as a dark horse candidate) but Clarke was glad to have her friend back anyway.

Clarke was headed back to the med bay when a particularly sharp kick brought tears to her eyes.  She rounded a corner to a small alcove between a slab of loose metal and the fence and sank to the cold ground.  She drew her knees as close to her chest as she could and willed the tears not to come.  It wasn’t that the kicks were particularly painful–it was what they represented.

A baby.  Without a father.

A baby whose father she  _killed_.

Tears poured down thick and fast and she let out a quiet sob.  The baby kicked again and she choked, wiping furiously at her cheeks.  Bellamy materialized and sat down at her side.  Clarke didn’t bother asking how he found her.  “He wouldn’t want you to be sad,” he said after a long moment.  Clarke cried harder and Bellamy put his arm across her shoulders.  “He wouldn’t,” he repeated.

“How would you know?  You barely knew him.  And you didn’t even like him,” she snarled even as her tears soaked into his jacket, desperate for Bellamy to leave and stay at the same time.

“I didn’t,” Bellamy admitted.  “But he was one of us.  And he loved you, and you don’t want the people you love to be sad.  Ergo, he wouldn’t want you to be sad.”

Clarke let out a watery chuckle.  “Ergo?”  She risked a glance at Bellamy, whose eyes were focused on the fence in front of them.

One corner of his mouth quirked up.  “You’re not the only smart one here, you know.”  He turned to face her and the half-grin faded.  “You’re right.  I didn’t know him well.  But he believed we could be better people, and that’s not nothing.  He believed in peace, and you got it for us.”

“By killing him.  Him, and hundreds of other innocent people.”

“You saved him,” Bellamy corrected.  “He was dead the minute he gave himself up.  We all knew that.   _He_  knew that.  What you did–it was no different than Atom.  You saved him, and then you saved everyone.”  Clarke opened her mouth to protest but Bellamy shook his head.  “We did what we had to do.  And now we have to move on, because Spacewalker would want that for us.  For you.”

Tears burned behind her eyes.  “He should be here.  He should be here and he isn’t, because of me.”

“Clarke–”

“No.  Even if you think I saved him, whatever he did, he did for me.  Those people in the village–he wouldn’t have killed them if it wasn’t for me.  Finn isn’t here and that’s my fault.”  She drew in a shuddering breath.  “And someday, I’m going to have to tell his child why he’s dead.”

Bellamy’s face was soft, his eyes sad.  “Then you won’t be alone.  Whenever you tell her–I’ll be there.”

Clarke’s heart swelled and sank at the same time.  “Her?” she said instead, changing the subject.  “You think it’s a girl?”

Bellamy shrugged.  “I tend to think every pregnant woman’s having a girl, but yeah.  A girl.”  He smiled and she managed a weak smile back.  “I was sent to find you though,” he said.  “We had a messenger.  The Commander is coming tomorrow and she wants to speak with you.”

Clarke wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and stood.  “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.  But there’s–there’s something you should know.  We may have given the Grounders the impression you never left,” Bellamy said, standing but keeping his eyes averted.

“What?”

“When the peace talks started, Lexa wanted to see you.  We told her you wouldn’t be participating in the talks but, uh, sort of implied that you would have final say on our terms–we figured she trusted you, and without you…it could have put things in jeopardy.”

“So you lied.”  They fell in step together and headed for the med bay.

“More like we omitted the truth.”

“And if they saw me outside the boundaries?  Or demanded to see me?”

Bellamy shrugged uncomfortably.  “It wasn’t my call.  I just thought you should know.”

Clarke shook her head.  “So she’ll be here tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow morning.  We’re meeting in the Council chambers.  I can be there, if you want.”

Clarke paused at the entrance to med bay and looked at him, standing straight and tall with his rifle strapped across his back.  “I do.  And thanks.”

Something flickered behind his eyes and he nodded before he walked away.

**

Clarke stood from behind the Council table when Lexa and her honor guard walked in.  Facing down the woman who forced her hand at the Mountain, who kissed her and then left, was easier than she thought it would be.  Bellamy stood behind her to the right, his gun clasped in his hands and his jaw tight while Kane stood to her left, far more relaxed.

She saw the moment Lexa noticed, her eyes flickering from Clarke’s belly to just over her shoulder and back again, but she didn’t mention it.  Instead she took her seat across from Clarke and began.

They talked all morning and most of the afternoon.  Kane handled most of the details but deferred to Clarke for final decisions, and by the time the sun started to sink behind the hills they had the bones of a more permanent peace treaty.  It wasn’t perfect and Clarke had to choke down her anger whenever Lexa blithely referred to the Mountain Men being eliminated, but it was a start.

Kane and Lexa made their goodbyes and then Lexa turned her focus to Clarke.  “I would speak with you,” she declared.

Kane looked uncertain but left at Clarke’s nod.  “Bellamy stays,” Clarke replied, equally authoritatively.  Lexa’s honor guard filed out, leaving the three of them alone.

“So this is why they hid you.  They needn’t have bothered–I would never allow anyone to harm you,” Lexa said from her spot across the table. 

“That’s not–” Bellamy started, but Clarke silenced him with a wave of her hand.

“What do you want, Lexa?”

Once again, Lexa flicked her gaze towards Bellamy.  “You said you weren’t ready.”

“I wasn’t.”

“For me.  But you were for him.”  Jealousy leaked into Lexa’s carefully controlled tone.

“It’s not mine,” Bellamy bit out.

“It’s Finn’s,” Clarke said at the same time.

Lexa looked between them again as if deciding whether to believe them.  “Then I am sorry.  I misjudged you.  I’d hoped–with time, you might forgive me.”  She sounded genuine, sincere.  Almost small.  For a fleeting moment, Lexa looked like the young girl she was instead of a leader of nations.

“I might,” Clarke replied, softer this time.  She gave Lexa a ghost of a smile that the other woman echoed.  “With time.”

“Thank you, Clarke of the Sky People,” Lexa said, her Commander’s mask slipping back on.

“You’re welcome, Commander,” Clarke returned, and watched as Lexa swept out of the Council chambers.

**

Clarke went into labor on an unusually warm day, the start of what Lincoln termed the spring thaw.  The pains were sharp but blessedly short, and compared to Abby and Nyko’s stories of women being in labor for days the seven hours she spent in the med bay squeezing her mother’s hand seemed like nothing.

And then it happened–Nyko handed her a tiny, if slightly gooey, little bundle.  “You have a daughter,” he said quietly and Clarke looked down with tears in her eyes.

“A girl,” she whispered.   _Bellamy was right._   She was tiny and wrinkled, but she had ten fingers and ten toes.   _She’s perfect._

Abby was the second person to hold her, while Nyko helped with the afterbirth.  And five hours after she was born, Bellamy was the third.  He crept in quietly, as if afraid he would wake them, but Clarke hadn’t slept, unable to stop looking at her.  She had a thin thatch of blonde hair and dark blue eyes, although her mother told her they might change color in a few months.  She had Finn’s chin and mouth, and even though it hurt to see his face she loved her daughter more than anything else.

“Does she have a name?” Bellamy asked, sitting down in the chair next to her.  

“I was thinking…Holly.”  She tore her eyes away from her daughter and looked at him, wondering if he remembered the sprig of holly he’d brought her just a few months before.

_“Is this the one you’re supposed to kiss under?” Clarke had asked, spinning the bright green leaves in her fingers._

_“No, that’s mistletoe.  This–I don’t know the significance, but people decorated with it at Christmas.”_

_“It’s pretty.”_

_“I thought you’d like the colors,” he said almost shyly and for the space of a few heartbeats, Clarke forgot to breathe._

Bellamy smiled and she knew he remembered.  He looked over her shoulder and nudged the blanket away from her cheek.  “Hi, Holly,” he whispered and she opened her eyes.

“I think she likes it,” Clarke whispered back.  “Want to hold her?”

“Is that okay?”

Clarke handed Holly over and watched as Bellamy cuddled her close.  “I wish he was here,” she said finally, because she  _had_  to tell someone.

“I know,” he said sympathetically.  “She looks like him, doesn’t she?”

“She does,” Clarke confirmed and let her head drop to his shoulder.

**

Clarke had just finished feeding Holly when Raven knocked.  “Nice sling,” Raven commented awkwardly and Clarke decided against telling her that Lexa had sent the sling in a bundle of baby supplies that arrived shortly after Holly’s birth.

“Thanks,” she said instead, because Raven was talking to her.  She motioned her inside and offered her a seat on her bed.  Their compartment was tiny, and between her cot, Abby’s, and the crib Miller and his dad made, there wasn’t a lot of room to move around.  Raven perched on the edge and for a few moments, they just stared at each other.

“Can–can I see her?” Raven asked, chewing her lower lip.  Clarke eased herself down on the cot and pulled Holly out of the sling.  Raven peered at her and then glanced up.  “Can I?” she whispered, and Clarke placed Holly gently in Raven’s arms.

Raven held Holly and Clarke watched.  Holly grasped Raven’s finger in her tiny fist and Clarke saw a shadow of a smile on Raven’s lips.  “She looks just like him,” Raven said finally, her voice breaking on the last word, and it was like a dam burst.

“She does,” Clark agreed, with one tearful look from Raven they both started crying, because Finn was gone.  Clarke wrapped her arms around Raven and they sobbed on each other’s shoulders.

“Here,” Raven hiccupped.  “Take her–I don’t want to drop your baby.”

Clarke laughed through her tears and so did Raven, and just as suddenly as they started crying, they were laughing.

“I hope she has his sense of humor,” Raven managed once they’d calmed down.

“I’m funny,” Clarke protested.  

Raven snorted and reached out to pat Clarke’s cheek.  “Oh honey.  You’re not.  You’re really, really not.”  They broke out into a fresh round of giggles, their shoulders pressed together, Holly on Clarke’s lap, her blue eyes blinking slowly at them.

Clarke pulled herself together as Holly’s eyes started to droop and laid her down on the bed, rubbing her tummy gently.  “She likes this,” she explained to Raven, who laid down on her side next to Holly.  Clarke mirrored her and let Raven take over.

“Okay kiddo, first things first.  When you build your first radio, you need to make sure your transmitter is in order,” Raven said seriously.

“Is this your version of baby talk?” Clarke giggled.

“What else am I supposed to talk to her about?” Raven asked.  “Now, if you’re smart you’ll come to your godmother, but if I’m not around–”

“Godmother?” Clarke interrupted.

“You see any other applicants?”  Clarke dropped her gaze to Holly while Raven mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like  _Octavia’s basically her aunt anyway_  but pretended she didn’t hear.  

Clarke rested her head on her arm and smiled.  “Godmother, then.”  Raven picked her lecture back up and Clarke drifted off by the time Raven got around to explaining the receiver.

**

It was a hot summer day when Bellamy intercepted Clarke on her way across camp.  Holly was balanced on her hip, her chubby fingers intertwined in Clarke’s hair.  (Hair was her new favorite thing, after her toes).  The camp rang with the sound of hammers and saws as people worked frantically to put up as many new cabins as possible before the cold set in.  Usually Bellamy was one of them, but an early morning council meeting had interrupted his plans.  “You working in med bay today?” he asked, falling into step beside her.

“Not today.  I was going to go see if Octavia or Lincoln wanted to go for a walk,” Clarke explained.  There wasn’t much shade to be had in the camp and Clarke longed for the cool solitude of the woods.  Plus, she was going stir-crazy, spending most of her free time in her compartment on the Ark that had reached oven-like temperatures over the past few days.  Raven was working on a solar cooling system, but so far all she’d managed to do was create several minor fires and have four separate shouting matches with Wick over the placement of various coils and coolants.  In the mean time, Clarke and Holly had taken to sleeping outside whenever it didn’t look like rain.

“They took a new batch of guards out on a training mission.  Did you want company?”

In response Clarke handed Holly over and pulled her shirt away from her skin, damp with sweat.  “I’d love some.”  Holly immediately started pulling Bellamy’s hair and gurgling happily.  “You sort of need a haircut,” Clarke observed as they waved to the guards at the gate and made for a nearby forest trail.

“Reyes has been bugging me to let her cut it for weeks,” Bellamy admitted in between making exaggeratedly surprised faces that set Holly giggling.  “I’m not sure I want to go there.”

“Probably easier to just let her do it,” Clarke pointed out.  “At least then she’ll leave you alone.”  The temperature dropped as they stepped into the woods and she sighed in relief.  “You know, I don’t think I ever really understood heat until this summer.”

“It is bad,” Bellamy agreed.  “I can’t decide what is worse–how cold it got in the winter or how hot it is now.  I never thought I’d miss the Ark, but I’d give anything for some climate control now.”

Clarke nodded and they lapsed into an easy silence.  Bellamy spoke lowly to Holly, pointing out different trees and plants and warning her against old jobi nuts.  Clarke liked how he talked to her, softly, but also as if Holly understood him.  (Holly had moved on from pulling his hair to gumming at his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to mind.  Clarke liked that too, to be honest).

As if by some unspoken agreement, they stopped when they came to a stream and sat down on a broad, sun-warmed rock.  Clarke stretched out on her back and watched the bright green leaves sway above her while Bellamy played peek-a-boo with Holly.  Eventually, the hum of insects and rustle of the leaves lulled Clarke into a doze.

An unhappy squawk from Holly brought her back and Clarke pushed up on her elbows.  “That sounds like a dirty diaper,” Clarke sighed.  Lexa’s bundle of gifts included more than two dozen soft, absorbent rags that Nyko helped her fasten into diapers, but Clarke hadn’t planned on being gone from camp long enough to bring a spare.  “We should head back.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Clarke took Holly back from Bellamy as they turned around.  Reluctant not because she didn’t want Holly back, but because her heart ached every time she watched Bellamy interact with her daughter.  It was equal parts wonder at his tenderness and sadness that he was the closest thing to a father Holly would ever know, and the fault for that lay with Clarke, no matter what Bellamy said.

Holly squirmed uncomfortably the whole hike back to camp, but Clarke was fortunate enough to have a daughter who rarely cried.   _That’s Finn’s personality in her_ , she’d decided.   _Making the best of a bad situation, being happy no matter what_.  As time went on his absence had started to hurt less keenly, but she wasn’t sure it would ever stop hurting completely.  She wasn’t sure she wanted it to.

Halfway through camp Bellamy drew to a stop.  “I told the Millers I’d help with building this afternoon, so I should probably get on that.  Mind if I stop by before she goes down for the night?”

That was another thing that made Clarke’s heart ache–the fact that Bellamy loved to put Holly to bed, holding her and rocking her until she fell asleep in his arms.  “Not at all–I’ll see you then,” she said with half of a smile.  

“Later, then,” he said with the same half-smile, and with a quick brush of his lips to the crown of Holly’s head, he was gone.

**

“Did I miss bedtime? Raven asked, poking her head into Clarke’s cabin.

“You did.  She crashed early tonight,” Clarke said.  “But come in anyway.”

Raven shut the door behind her and took a seat in front of the hearth.  Holly was sleeping in the back room, Raven’s solar heater chugging away, but the front room relied on the fire.  Clarke tossed another log on the fire and sat down across from her just as the front door opened again.

“Holly asleep already?” Bellamy asked.

“I’m starting to feel like you guys are using me for my baby,” Clarke deadpanned.  “And yes, she’s asleep.”

“Did you need anything before I turn in?”

Clarke waved him away.  “Believe it or not, I can function just fine on my own.  Have a good night.”

“Night, ladies,” he said with a smile and closed the door.  

Clarke had been in the cabin for three weeks while her mother moved back into her old tent.  They’d considered staying together but the tiny cabin was cramped enough as it was, and with Holly getting a little older Clarke wanted to make a go of it on her own.  Bellamy and Miller finished the cabin just as the weather shifted from summer to early fall, and she knew that come winter she would appreciate the solid walls around her.  The Ark was warm, but metal had a way of feeling cold even when it wasn’t.  For the first time since she arrived on earth, she had a place that felt like home.

Raven pursed her lips at Clarke.  “Are you ever going to do something about that?”

“About what?”  Clarke leaned back on her elbows and let the heat from the fire wash over her.

“Bellamy.  You have to know by now.  He’s been in love with you for–I don’t even know how long.  Possibly forever.  You can’t not know.”  

Clarke stared at the fire and chewed her lower lip, wondering how to explain what she had with Bellamy.  How to explain how terrified she was, how she didn’t want to lose anything else, not when she’d already lost so much.  How she tried to keep him at arms length and couldn’t, not when he insisted on loving Holly.  Not when he was still the first person she turned to, the first shoulder she leaned on.

Raven sat up straighter.  “Or you do know, and  _that’s_  why you left.”  Her words were harsh, her voice like steel.

“It wasn’t the only reason,” Clarke whispered, because it wasn’t.  She’d made her decision and then he begged her to stay and what she’d never told anyone, not even him, was that she almost listened.  She wavered because of what she saw in his eyes, but in the end she left  _because_  of what she saw.  He loved her and she wasn’t ready, and she knew that if she stayed, she never would be.  But by the time she came back, her world had changed so much she didn’t dare broach the subject with him, and now so much time had passed she wasn’t sure she could.

“I slept with him, you know,” Raven told the fire.

Clarke’s eyes widened and she whipped her head around.  “What?  What about Wick?  When?”

Raven made a disgusted face.  “Not  _recently_.  Back when we were all at the dropship.  You and Finn didn’t come back from hunting and I thought–well, you know what I thought.  So I slept with Bellamy.”

“Why?”

Raven looked straight at her, her dark eyes as serious as Clarke had ever seen them.  “Because you took something of mine.  And I wanted to take something of yours.”

“Bellamy wasn’t–we weren’t–” Clarke protested, but Raven cut her off.

“I know.  And I knew it then too, but it doesn’t change anything.  He’s been yours since I got here, and now he’s Holly’s too.  You have to decide, Clarke.”  Raven’s face softened.  “Do you feel the same way?”

Clarke shrugged.  “I don’t think it matters if I do.  I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The people I love get hurt.  Because of me.”

“That’s bullshit.  That’s bullshit and you know it.”  Raven stood and looked expectantly at her.  “Well?”

Clarke stood up.  “Well what?

“I’ll stay here with Holly, and you’re going to go put that poor boy out of his misery once and for all.  Break his heart or tell him you love him, but either way–this ends tonight.”

Raven fixed her with a glare and Clarke nodded meekly.  “Come get me if she wakes up?”

“I can handle her.  Now go,” Raven ordered.

Clarke could hear Bellamy rustling around his tent as she shivered in the chilly fall air.  “Bellamy?” she called to announce her approach.  She ducked into his tent to find him standing still near his cot, looking worried.

“Is anything wrong?  Is Holly okay?”

“She’s fine.  Raven’s with her.  I wanted to talk.”  Bellamy sat down on the edge of his cot, his face serious.  “I’m sorry that I left.  After Mount Weather.”

“You’ve said that a million times.  It’s fine.”

Clarke crossed her arms and dug her nails into her forearms.  “But it isn’t.  Because I left you.”

Bellamy closed his eyes like he was in pain.  “I–I didn’t want you to stay if you didn’t want to.”

“But I hurt you,” she said, moving to stand in front of him.  She ran her fingers through his hair and trailed them down his cheek.  “I didn’t want to hurt you.”  His eyes stayed closed and she fit her fingers behind his ear.  “I never want to hurt you.”  There was more she wanted to say, more she wanted to promise, but she was never good with words the way he was, so instead she bent down and softly brushed her lips over his.

Bellamy took a sharp intake of breath and angled his chin up, chasing her as she drew back.  Clarke gave in, taking in the way he felt, the way he tasted, the way he brought his hands up to cup her cheeks.  She knelt astride him and he pulled back, still holding her face.  “Promise me this is real,” he said, his voice ragged at the edges.  “Because I can’t–I can’t do this if this is just tonight, or if you think you might change your mind.  I need this to be real.  You can walk away now and we can pretend this never happened, I swear, but if you stay I need this to be real.”

There was no lantern in the tent, just moonlight leaking through the nylon fabric.  Clarke wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.  “It is.  It’s–this is for real,” she assured him, pushing him back on the cot.

For the first time in months, Clarke let herself stop thinking.  All that was left was pure sensation, from the brush of her breasts against his chest (warm, hard,  _safe_ ) to the skin of his back under her hands (smooth, hot,  _hard_ ) and his fingers inside of her (deep, sweet,  _more_ ).  Her heels pressed against his backside as he pushed into her and the furs on his cot tickled her skin (soft, soft,  _soft_ ) while she fell apart, both of them bathed in moonbeams and sticky with sweat.

She was curled on her side with Bellamy pressed against her back when she finally returned to herself.  Wind knifed through the tent and she shivered, so Bellamy moved the furs to cover her more completely.  “Is it like this a lot?” she asked.  “The wind, I mean.”  The tent she’d shared with Abby had been heavy canvas, and while it was damp and chilly sometimes, it at least kept the wind out.

“Sometimes.  This is better though,” he purred against the shell of her ear.  “You’re nice and warm.”

Clarke made a decision and rolled over to face him, his pupils blown wide.  “Then move in with us.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows disappeared into his mussed curls.  “Move in?”

“Move in.  With me and Holly.  The cabin is a lot warmer.”

“It should be.  I built the damn thing,” Bellamy said with a half-smile.  “But are you sure?”

Clarke bit her lip and smiled.  “I am.  Remember?  I told you.  This is real.”  She leaned over him for a long, lazy kiss.  “But just so you know, Holly wakes up in the middle of the night for a snack,” she warned, her lips still against his.

“Will you come back to bed with me after?”

“I will.”

“Then I’m fine with that,” he said, and the smile on his face made her heart soar.

“I should probably go back though.  Raven’s capable, but Holly’s going to be getting up soon.”

Bellamy tightened his arms around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck.  “Fine,” he sighed, and let her go.

“You can move your stuff in tomorrow,” Clarke promised.  “I’d offer tonight, but I should probably tell my mom first.”  She stood and redressed quickly, sneaking peeks at the way Bellamy looked with the furs pooled around his waist and his chest bare.

“Fair enough,” Bellamy agreed.  He wrapped a fur around his shoulders and stood, pulling her against his body one last time.  “In case it wasn’t clear–I love you.”

Clarke arched her neck to kiss him.  “I love you too,” she whispered, and for once, everything was right.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to bleedtoloveher for pre-reading and suggesting a few tweaks that made this a lot better.
> 
> Come visit me on tumblr! I'm HawthorneWhisperer over there too.


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